Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 322: The Truth Behind The Lies 2

Chapter 322: The Truth Behind The Lies 2

The sword slipped from Kasmeri’s fingers, its steel echoing like a cry of betrayal as it struck the stone floor.

Kasmeri could not believe that he got distracted and let go of his weapon. How could he let it happen? He shook his head to wake himself up from his current stupor.

"You were deceived," King Heimdal said, his voice low and deliberate, eyes narrowing beneath a storm of thoughts. "Someone’s been feeding you lies... twisting your fury, bending it to their will. Using you—to kill me, and further their own ambitions."

Kasmeri hesitated. Just a fraction of a moment. His fingers twitched, and the tremble in his hand stilled. Then he bent, retrieved the sword, and with a smirk, leveled it at the king’s chest.

"You are lying," he hissed, voice thick with contempt. "Your mind games won’t work on me. I am no fool, Heimdal." He spoke the king’s name without honor, without the slightest respect.

"A man who wanted to be blind, no matter how many led in front of him with lanterns, would never see the light." King Heimdal breathed deeply.

He could have shouted. The guards outside would burst in. Kasmeri would be dead before his next breath. But he didn’t. Beneath his royal robes, he wore a hidden armor—a golden-plated singlet. Earlier, the masked attacker’s blade had pierced only the outer, grazing his chest where the protection was thinnest.

However, he pitied the man who, all his life, was made to believe that he was his son—who had been weaponized by bitterness.

That servant... Had she never told him the truth? Was she bought—owned—by his cousin all along? Had his cousin truly been spinning this web for over twenty years? Has he been scheming this long, waiting for the right moment to reveal his true ambition?

King Heimdal did not blink even when he started to feel a light ache on his chest where the tip of the sword had started to penetrate. His outer robe was pierced.

"I will say it again. The man who slept with your mother," Heimdal continued, "wasn’t me. I was in love with my wife at that time. Do not sully her memory with your slander."

Kasmeri’s hand shook. The fire in his eyes flickered. "Stop! Do not poison me with your lies."

Why was the king so adamant about denying his sin?

Why did he sound so certain?

Could his mother have been wrong?

Could he have been wrong?

No! His mother couldn’t be wrong.

As if hearing his thoughts, Heimdal met his gaze, voice now grim and low, like thunder waiting behind a curtain of clouds.

"It was my cousin, Caspian!" King Heimdal’s voice was full of authority. The king’s declaration was like a thunderbolt that struck Kasmeri’s very core.

"He passed himself off as me more than once. He wore my robe and spoke with my voice. I only learned the truth after the damage had been done. I paid your mother in silence—not to bury my shame, but his."

Kasmeri’s stance faltered. The sword wavered.

He stepped back and stared at the king. Disbelief twisted across his face. A thousand questions surged forward like a flood behind his eyes.

The inferno of hatred that had once burned so cleanly within him cracked—fractured by a single shard of doubt.

"You’re lying," he whispered, but the strength in his voice had vanished.

Then—a memory surfaced, faint... distant...

"If one day you faced your father, he would try to deceive you. Do not let him. Remember your mother, your stepfather who sheltered the two of you when your mother had nowhere to go, and remember your younger brother who was innocent."

Those were the words of the young Duke Caspian. He pulled him out of the ruins of his stepfather’s mansion when he was on his last breath. He hired a doctor to nurse him back to health.

’Why are you helping me?’ He remembered asking Caspian on the day he bade him farewell.

’Because I hate my brother for his hypocrisy. One day, when you are strong, you should seek justice for the injustice your mother suffered.’

’Do you know my mother?’ Kasmeri asked, curious about the relationship between the two.

The young duke sighed, ’She served my mother, Princess Samara. But even though she is iust a place maid, she has a good heart. I am saddened by her tragedy.’

’Then why did you not help her?’

’I am not strong. I don’t have power. My mother is just a princess, not a prince.’

"My word is the truth, young man. There is no reason for me to deny my bloodline, regardless of who the mother is. I am not that despicable."

Heimdal’s words pulled Kasmeri back to the present.

The torchlight flickered against the wooden walls, casting jagged shadows across the floor. Heimdal studied the storm of emotion in Kasmeri’s eyes. He could almost see the battle within.

The mask man before him looked like a good man—perhaps. But poisoned. Turned into a blade by someone else’s lies. He had been poisoned too deeply by his quest for revenge. In his current state, he could not accept the truth, especially from someone whom he deemed his enemy.

Kasmeri took three steps back. The sword tip dipped. Then—he lunged.

Heimdal, calm as a mountain, flicked his sleeve and pressed the ruby on his wristband.

Thwip!

Arrows hissed from hidden slots in his sleeve. Three of them flew like lightning toward Kasmeri’s chest.

Kasmeri, was startled. He did not expect King Heidal to have a hidden weapon with him. However, he had already thrust his sword and intended to meet the arrows head-on.

But in that same instant—a shadow crashed through the window.

Kasmeri was slammed to the floor. The sword clattered away, spinning across the stone. The shadowed figure kicked it aside. The arrows buried themselves in the wall with a dull thunk, inches from the royal bed.

Outside, the guards who were keeping watch heard the commotion and raised their weapons. One reached to break the door—

"Do not disturb my rest," King Heimdal’s voice rang out—cold, imperious, immovable.

The guard froze, his boot inches from the door.

"Y-yes, Your Majesty," he stammered, heart pounding.

Inside, Heimdal stood still, watching the two figures wrestled on the floor. Something about the newcomer stirred a strange, sharp intuition within him.

After a few minutes of struggling, Kasmeri was subdued by the man who was wearing a tight fitting upper and lower garment. His mask covered his entire head and face, showing just his eyes, nose, and lips.

"You are not one of my hidden guards," Heimdal said, voice pitched just loud enough for them to hear—but not the guards outside. "Are you working with him?"

The man’s eyes locked on his. When it came, his voice was smooth and deep—like velvet drawn over steel.

"If I were with him," he said quietly, "you would be dead, Your Majesty."

Heimdal stiffened.

"You..." he whispered.

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